Abby asked:

Is there such a thing as intellectual elitism? To what extent should we allow our intellectual pursuits to run our lives and is it better to have friends with the same intellectual interests as you?

I have a close friend of mine who I feel I’m drawing away from because for months I’ve been feeling that we are too different mainly because I can’t be myself with her. I can’t talk to her about anything serious and when I try she shows absolutely No interest. The problem is I spend a lot of time with her and when I do I feel like I’m losing a part of myself I can’t afford to. I’m afraid of being elitist. At the same time being an introvert I value the friends I have but this one is suffocating me.

Answer by Geoffrey Klempner

There is such a thing as intellectual elitism, but your question isn’t really about that. What is intellectual elitism? At a first pass, I would define it as the over-valuation of intellectual ability, at the expense of under-valuing other abilities.

Plato is famously quoted as saying that philosophers should be kings — in other words, we should appoint philosophers as our leaders/ rulers — but few persons, least of all professional philosophers would give any credence to such an absurd proposition. The first and most important qualification for a leader is a capacity for leadership, which is only accidentally related (if at all) to the ability to think about the mind-body problem or the ontological status of numbers.

Yes, we want our leaders to be smart. We want our doctors and lawyers and CEOs to be smart. However, overall, intellectual elitism is harmful rather than beneficial. That would be the default, common sense view. Give credit where it is due, but remember that the well being of society requires the contribution of those with other attributes besides attributes of the intellect.

As I said, your question is about something quite different. Your story is of a person who wants to better themself and a (formerly) close friend who is holding them back. It could be the plot of a movie. Imagine that you had taken a strong interest in sport but your friend refused to go on runs with you (she’s too fat and lazy). Well, you can still watch TV with her, go to movies, or go out for a drink.

You should be careful about dropping old friends, you never know when you need them.

http://www.philosophypathways.com/vita.html

Lauren asked:

I have a question in my textbook that I was wondering if you could help. The question is:

How would Heraclitus have responded to the following statement? ‘Heraclitus’ theory is wrong because the objects we see around us continue to endure throughout time; although a person, an animal or plant may change its superficial qualities, it still remains essentially the same person, animal or plant throughout these changes. In fact, we recognize change only by contrasting it to the underlying permanence of things. So permanence, not change, is the essential to reality.’

Answer by Graham Hackett

Lauren, there is a great deal in this quote. Incidentally, I don’t recognise it so I am wondering where it comes from. Heraclitus would not have responded in ordinary everyday language, he would have responded gnomically, so that we would have great difficulty understanding his answer. That’s Heraclitus the obscure for you!

Incidentally, I don’t read Greek, so you will have to take my comments on the fragments of Heraclitus as referring to their English translation. In fact, the version I am looking at now, as I try to comment on your question, is due to GWT Patrick. This is rather an old translation (1889) but I have not found that reading anything more recent alters my answer.

The key to understanding Heraclitus lies in grasping the meaning of expressions such as ‘flux and process’ and the ‘unity of opposites’.

In talking about flux, it is usually the case to stress that fire is a key element for Heraclitus, and that this means that he regards nothing as permanent. The cosmos is in a state of perpetual flux, and this view is often contrasted with the Milesian philosophers search for a constant, an arche; something which is unchanged throughout the perpetual change which the perceptual world seems to suggest is the norm. Or as Heraclitus famously puts it himself;

"Into the same river you could not step twice, for other and still other waters are flowing."

Or, even more mysteriously,

"Into the same river we both step and do not step. We both are and are not."

And Heraclitus also says;

"All things are exchanged for fire and fire for all things, just as wares for gold and gold for wares."

This all suggests that Heraclitus is denying that there is anything permanent; all is in flux, to be consumed by eternal fire. There is nothing wrong about this view; it is the orthodox one and can be strongly supported by reference to the fragments. But all is not as it seems in the words of Heraclitus. Things can change almost constantly and still retain an identity. Take the metaphor of the river — surely a good example of something which is ever flowing and ever-changing. Yet a river cannot be a river unless it is constantly changing in this way. If a river ceases to flow, then it arguably stops being a river, and becomes something else — a lake, say. The ship of Theseus can still (arguably) be the ship of Theseus even though it has changed considerably through constant repair and improvement over the years.

Heraclitus would no doubt argue that if you wish to find a permanent feature in the cosmos, then you should stop looking for a substance, and look for a process instead. Fire is a metaphor for this process. Even in the case of the Milesian philosophers, it is still possible to discern an interest in an underlying process rather than searching for an unchanging stuff, or arche. Was it not Anaximenes, who, whilst suggesting that air might be the permanent underlying substratum of reality, nevertheless identified observable reality as being the result of changes in this substance? Air could become more rarefied or solidified, and so perpetual change would be a feature of the cosmos just as much as the permanence of air.

As if to reinforce his insistence on a process of change rather than a permanent unchanging substance, Heraclitus is also seen to stress an underlying rule (i.e. ‘logos’ ) in the cosmos, which is often referred to as the ‘unity of opposites’. We can find the following among the fragments of the works of Heraclitus;

"Cold becomes warm, and warm, cold; wet becomes dry, and dry, wet They do not understand: how that which separates unites with itself. It is a harmony of oppositions, as in the case of the bow and of the lyre.

‘Unite whole and part, agreement and disagreement, accordant and discordant; from all comes one, and from one all."

There are more examples of these to be found. In the cosmos, an object moves from point A to point B, thus creating a change, but the underlying law remains the same. Thus, a unity of opposites is present in the universe. So I would argue that Heraclitus would not disagree outright with much of the wording of your question, which states that the underlying logos of the cosmos is permanence. He might use the same words but insist that the underlying logos is change, not permanence.

Instead of saying (as in your quote),

‘… the objects we see around us continue to endure throughout time; although a person, an animal or plant may change its superficial qualities, it still remains essentially the same person, animal or plant throughout these changes. In fact, we recognize change only by contrasting it to the underlying permanence of things. So permanence, not change, is the essential to reality,’

Heraclitus might say,

‘… the objects we see around us perpetually change throughout time; although a person, an animal or plant may remain the same in its superficial qualities, it is always in flux. In fact, we recognize permanence only by contrasting it to the underlying changing of things. So change, not permanence, is the essential to reality.’

Is it not possible to regard permanence and change as being opposites, to be included in Heraclitus’s own idea of the unity of opposites? Perhaps it is possible to argue that permanence and flux are a matter of perspective, and furthermore, that Heraclitus seems to capture something important about them in his logos.

Graham Hackett is currently studying for the BA (Hons) in Philosophy with the University of London International Programme. He is a former student of Dr Geoffrey Klempner.

Michael asked:

Where does theology end and philosophy begin?

Answer by George Tsagdis

Aristotle gives three definitions of first philosophy or sophia (what would come to be known as metaphysics): i. the science of first causes (aitia) and principles (archai) of things, ii. the science of being qua being, iii. theology. A common problem of Aristotelian scholarship has been the harmonization of the three definitions. What does Aristotle mean when he defines the first philosophy as theology? What is this logos of God? First of all, what is God, if one can speak of God in accordance with the verb ‘to be’? In another famous definition Aristotle locates the essence of God in a thought that thinks itself (noeses noeseos). This thought is the first cause and the unmoved mover of the cosmos. Clearly then, if philosophy is the science, or knowledge, of the first causes it must think God: think the thought that thinks itself.

Aristotle is not alone in this tradition that recognises God as the very foundation of thought, a recognition strongly invested in the further Parmenidean premise that identifies thought and Being. In the history of philosophy God appears more often than not as principle and cause of both — and yet philosophy’s is a history of difference. It is interesting however to see that materialist philosophical thought has not always been severed from theology; the early example of Stoics, is telling in this regard.

All clearly hinges on the ways one attempts to think philosophy and theology. And yet, although God has died in so many ways and philosophy often wishes to think that it has detached itself from the discourse of this dead God, a discourse that constitutes its own history, this wish cannot be meaningful until a completely new thought is reinvented. It is important to trace what remains inextricable in the thought of philosophers who attempted most decisively to extricate themselves from theological themes, suppositions, tropes and so on (Wittgenstein, Deleuze, etc). First however, it is important to understand that the relation of philosophy and theology is not akin to that of any two disciplines, defined principally by their scope and methodology. If the first task of thought is to think itself, philosophy will, in the Aristotelian sense, forever remain divine.

http://kingston.academia.edu/GeorgiosTsagdis

Answer by Massimo Piglilucci

Distinguishing theology from philosophy is a tricky business. Broadly speaking, it is an exercise in conceptual demarcation, similar to the attempts to separate, say, science from pseudoscience [1], or philosophy itself from science. On the one hand, it is bound to fail if we understand such demarcation to be characterized by sharp, clear-cut boundaries. On the other hand, it seems obvious that there are differences between theology and philosophy (or science and pseudoscience, or science and philosophy), so that it makes sense to ask the question.

To begin with, then, it may be helpful to see that whatever criteria may turn out to be useful in such efforts do not form a set of necessary and jointly sufficient conditions. Take, for instance, one possible definition of a triangle: a polygon with three edges and three vertices. Having those characteristics is both necessary (without them, a geometric figure is not a triangle) and sufficient (they are enough to separate triangles from every other geometric figure). Philosophers have long agreed that complex concepts such as theology and philosophy (or science and pseudoscience) are simply not amenable to this kind of definition.

What then? We could adopt what is called a ‘family resemblance’ approach, famously advocated by Wittgenstein in a similar context (in his example, the definition of a game). Certain concepts (games, theology, philosophy) are loosely defined by a series of ‘threads’ that may or may not be instantiated in every single application of the concept. For instance, while games often have rules, they are set up as competitions, they are engaged in for fun, and so on, there are some games that do not have all those characteristics (e.g., in solitaire one doesn’t play to ‘win’), as well as other activities that may displayed them, and yet are not games (e.g., one can go hiking for fun, but hiking isn’t a game). Wittgenstein then suggested that the way we know what a game is hinges on the fact that we are able to point to certain activities and say ‘that’s a game, that’s not a game,’ which sometimes means that there will be situations were we are genuinely uncertain, not because we are ignorant of something, but because the activity in question truly has some, but arguably not enough, of the characteristics of a game.

How do we apply this approach to the question of the relationship between theology and philosophy? Well, both disciplines share a number of characteristics in common, including the fact that they are not directly concerned with empirical evidence (i.e., they are not sciences), they do not usually use symbolic reasoning of the type associated with math (though they may express some of their propositions in logical symbolism), and they both are best done by presenting formal or informal arguments in favor of certain conclusions, arguments that are in turn based on certain assumptions about whatever the subject matter at hand happens to be.

The main difference between theology and philosophy, then, seems to be that theology begins with a set of assumptions that philosophy does not have to, and normally does in fact not, accept: that there is a supernatural realm, featuring one (or more) entities called gods, who have a certain role in human affairs (and played a crucial one in the beginning of the cosmos), and who have a number of characteristics (e.g., they may be benevolent, all powerful, and all knowing, for instance). By contrast, much modern philosophy is carried out from a naturalistic perspective, i.e., without regard to (or even while downright denying) the existence of transcendental realms of the type that theology takes for granted. (That said, some philosophers do accept other types of transcendental realms, for example those that subscribe to mathematical Platonism [2] or modal realism [3].)

What further complicates the issue of separating theology from philosophy is that historically there was no such distinction, at the least during most of the Middle Ages in Europe. Certain important figures of the history of Western philosophy, from Augustine to Thomas Aquinas, were theologians. (Just like, say, important figures in philosophy were also scientists: Descartes, for instance.)

However, nowadays philosophy and theology university departments tend to be separate (and even when they are part of a single academic unit, often function effectively as separate), and theological and philosophical professional conferences and publications are also distinct. This seems to suggest that – while there are still areas of overlap (most prominently, in the field of the philosophy of religion), the relevant academic communities themselves seem to increasingly endorse the idea that theology and philosophy are different fields of inquiry. Of course, a more radical possibility is for a naturalistic philosopher to argue that – because theology is based on false assumptions (about the existence of the supernatural) – it is really an example of pseudo-philosophy, just like, say, astrology is an example of pseudo-science (because based on the false assumption that distant celestial bodies have a direct effect on human affairs).

—

[1] See, for instance: Philosophy of Pseudoscience: Reconsidering the Demarcation Problem, edited by M. Pigliucci and M. Boudry, University of Chicago Press, 2013.

[2] See: Mathematical Platonism, by M. Pigliucci, Philosophy Now, 2011.

[3] Confessions of a modal realist, part 1 and part 2, by L. Finkelman, Rationally Speaking, & January and 13 February 2013.

Prof Massimo Pigliucci Graduate Center & Lehman College City University of New York http://platofootnote.org

Answer by Tony Boese

To answer this question, I think it would be best to start by looking at the words themselves, and their respective etymologies. In particular, consider the first part of each conjunct. For Theology this is theoi which centers on that which pertains to the gods. In full, Theology would be, at least roughly, the study of the gods and their accoutrements and hangers on (demi-gods, angels, mythical creatures, etc.). In contrast, Philosophy begins with philos, which centers on wisdom. In full, Philosophy is the love of wisdom and all that we can get from and with it. Granted, wisdom is a bit of a term-of-art for we Philosofolk; however, this Wisdom/ God(s) divide should be salient nonetheless.

Of course, the natural next question is whether or not what it says on the tin is of any use. I think it is, and I think I have a sense of why many might think it is not. In short: Philosophy and Theology cover a lot of overlapping materials; however, what is less seen is that we do this in different ways and often for different reasons. For Theology the justification has its bedrock in what (the) G/g o/- d(s) (to cover as many bases as I can!) think and want. Even when the subject at hand is the unilluminated writings of other people, as opposed to scripture for example, it is likely that their subject is what said divine person(s) wants, or thinks. In contrast, the justification in Philosophy is supposed to be reason and logic. The argument must find its way back to a truth. It is best if it is a non-contentious claim, but any suitably stable and defensible claim will do. Up to a point in history, the (e.g.) Will of God was accepted among these grounding truths, and was a well touted one at that. In this period, which is one to which most people are exposed when taught philosophy (big name, historic texts, up to the enlightenment, as opposed to more contemporary pieces), is likely the locus of the equivocation. That said, if one tried to break philosophical ground on the back of scripture and divine will alone today, it would most likely not be well taken by the academy,

On a less rigorous note, the role of experience might be an important consideration. This is something mostly beyond my wheelhouse, both academically and experientially; however, I have heard it said and find it interesting if not also compelling, that Theology has a key experiential component. Theology is done based on experiences and reflections, both divine and mundane, both our own and others. Philosophy, in contrast, though often having an experiential element especially when resting on intuitions, can and some say should be done completely devoid of this. One can do philosophy entirely in the abstract and hypothetical, even reaching practicable conclusions via this method.

Finally, for sake of being through, I feel it important to note that there are possible exceptions wherein Philosophy and Theology are virtually exchangeable, or at least are directly in dialogue. A big one that comes to mind is Just War.

Tony Boese is a Pathways mentor and a member of the Board of the International Society for Philosophers.

Craig asked:

These days philosophy is often viewed as discourse (doctrine, argument, conceptual analysis) as a subject for intellectual study. But the Western tradition (Socrates, Plato, Aristotle, Stoics, Cynics, Pyrrhonists, Epicureans) strongly emphasizes that philosophy is discourse plus a way of life striving for wisdom, and ancient accounts of philosophers often tell us how they lived rather than just what they said.

What, then, are the distinctive features of a philosophical way of life? And can one call oneself a philosopher without living such a life?

Answer by Geoffrey Klempner

There’s a book to look at (if you haven’t already) Pierre Hadot ‘Philosophy as a Way of Life’:

http://www.amazon.co.uk/Philosophy-Way-Life-Spiritual-Exercises/dp/0631180338

I have a connection to this. My student Martin O’Hagan, who was murdered by the ‘Red Hand Gang’ Protestant paramilitaries studied Hadot, according to this article by Michael Chase:

Click to access 8-2%2005%20Chase%20-%20Hadot.pdf

Chase is commenting on an essay O’Hagan wrote, ‘Philosophical considerations on discourse/ praxis’, which is on the Pathways web site:

http://philosophypathways.com/guide/martin.html

It is a powerful piece, all the more so when you are familiar with the historical background (the Irish ‘troubles’).

Martin O’Hagan also has an ‘In Memoriam’ page on PhiloSophos, with links:

http://philosophos.org/philosophy_lovers/postcard_gallery_8.html

Martin never mentioned Hadot to me. I was given a copy of Hadot many years later by Rachel Browne, one of the ISFP Board members. It is essential reading if you are interested in this topic.

At the time when he was sending essays to me, I knew nothing about O’Hagan’s activities as a campaigning journalist. You can imagine my shock when the news came out (by a horrible coincidence, I was in Dublin at the time, attending a conference at UCD).

To your question(s):

Second one first. You can call yourself a ‘philosopher’ if your interest in philosophy is sufficiently serious, in exactly the same way as you can call yourself a ‘photographer’ if your interest in photography is sufficiently serious.

You don’t have to earn a living by it, nor do you have to practice it to the exclusion of all other activities. It is perfectly possible to be a philosopher and a photographer (as I consider myself to be, not necessarily ‘as good’ at both!).

On the other hand, you can’t call yourself a ‘physician’ unless you have a medical degree, regardless of how passionate your interest. That’s an interesting contrast.

Many people take snaps who are not photographers, and many people study philosophy or think about philosophical ideas who are not philosophers.

This is just a personal opinion (prejudice) but anyone who attempts to ‘practice philosophy as a way of life’ is someone I wouldn’t be too keen to know. I would be intensely annoyed that they thought they were ‘more of a philosopher’ than I am just because I don’t live as an ascetic or do spiritual exercises.

http://www.philosophypathways.com/vita.html

Adam asked:

I’ve been seeing this on the web lately:

Explain.

Answer by Craig Skinner

This is the shortest version of the liar paradox, so called because of the ancient tale of the Cretan who said ‘All Cretans are liars’ (Epimenides poem of c.a. 600 BCE actually says ‘The Cretans, always liars…’, but no matter).

As with the Cretan’s utterance, it’s paradoxical because, although it seems to make sense, we can’t say that it is true (as opposed to false) or false (as opposed to true).

Assume the sentence is true. Then what it says is correct. But it says it’s false. So it’s false. So, if it’s true, it’s false.

Assume, on the other hand, it’s false. Then what it says is incorrect. But it says it’s false. So this is incorrect. So, it’s true. So, if it’s false, it’s true.

The sentence is self contradictory.

Ways of dealing with this.

1. Ban self-referring statements, and say that comment about a sentence must be in a higher-level metalanguage. This is like Russell’s Theory of Types as a ‘solution’ to the set-of-sets-which-are-not-members-of-themself paradox. But It seems to dodge the issue. In any case you can avoid the self-referring sentence as follows:

* The sentence below is true.

* The sentence above is false.

2. Abandon true/ false bivalence, admit a third truth value of neither-true-nor-false, or both-true-and-false, or a null value (truth gap).

3. Accept that some contradictions exist. The sentence IS true, and the sentence IS not-true. There are true contradictions.

My preference is for 3. Some people go wild at this, saying that if we accept a single contradiction, then ANYTHING can be proved (the explosion problem). But I doubt this. If you’re interested, read Graham Priest In Contradiction 2nd ed Oxford University Press 2006.

Hegel held that there are true contradictions, but based this on acceptance of Kant’s antinomies (which are fallacious) and on arguments of his own which are incomprehensible (to me at any rate). But I think he was right.

Logic including true contradictions is called dialetheic logic or paraconsistent logic, and its proponents say that it is to classical logic as Einstein’s theory of gravity is to Newton’s — both get it right in ordinary circumstances, but the newer view is more correct and also gets it right in extreme circumstances.

Craig Skinner at philosophos.org

Jamie asked:

Descartes in his meditations tells us that an evil demon controls all our perceptions, but the meditator retains the power willingly to suspend judgment, the cartesian demon cannot simply force its victim to have any arbitrary chosen belief. For example, it cannot install and run an arbitrarily chosen train of thought in the mind of the philosopher thereby making the philosopher believe whatever the demon wants. But how could Descartes be sure of that? If this was the case in our reality how would we know or discover it? and how could we deal with knowing it? I guess what I’m asking is are our thoughts and perceptions and even actions controlled by us?

Answer by Jürgen Lawrenz

Descartes can be sure because at the end of the demon’s insinuations there is no Descartes left, only a ‘thinking thing’. This res cogitans knows nothing other than that ‘it is’. As a self-contradiction results from its assertion of self-nonexistence, Descartes has now the option of assuming that this thinking thing, which has the capacity of knowing its own existence indubitably, must be an individuated thinking thing, i.e. a soul. From this it follows logically that the soul has at least one clear and distinct perception, namely of itself as an existent; and as this one thought does not exhaust the soul’s capacity for thinking other thoughts, it invites the conclusion that all equally clear and distinct perceptions of the soul would be equally indubitable, irrespective of any demon’s insinuations.

Candidates for such indubitability might be mathematical truths or mechanical laws and metaphysical ideas such as, ‘I cannot be the sole existent in the world’. As these evolve from the inside, i.e. from the soul itself, they do not depend on external verification, and therefore the demon has no power to demolish them. Accordingly there is a species of thought (ideas) that has power to validate perceptions by the senses. These include phenomena with features which are delivered to the mind and exhibit geometrical ratios, measurable volumes etc. Accordingly the back door is now open to the verification of sensory perceptions through the application of such truths and laws. Similarly, the mind has power to dispel superstitions, hallucinations and the like, because e.g. witches perform tasks which are impossible under mechanical laws and ghosts are phenomena without geometrical features.

Jürgen Lawrenz at philosophos.org

Answer by Geoffrey Klempner

At one point in the First Meditation, Descartes considers the possibility that he is mad — and dismisses the thought without further argument. Was he right to do so? If an evil demon is messing with my very thought processes then the game is up. There is nothing I can do to defend my mind against the power of the evil demon.

Arguably, the over-arching assumption of the Meditations, which is never challenged, is that this is an exercise in reasoning. Whatever illusions and misinformation I may be bombarded with (by an evil demon, e.g.) the response comes from the exercise of reason.

So you are right that scepticism could be taken further than Descartes takes it. But the point was never simply to battle with the full-on determined sceptic; it was to use the idea of methodological scepticism as means of discovery of foundational metaphysical truths.

I think that the notion of an evil demon is incredibly important in metaphysics (still!) and have made a YouTube video on this topic, Return of the evil demon which you might be interested to watch.

http://www.philosophypathways.com/vita.html